From "Water Wheel" in Storm Moon's Devout anthology:
Rhys' long fingers dug into the ground, and Leo imagined them pressing against flesh instead of dirt. He jumped when his long-forgotten philosophy book slid from his lap to the floor. A smile quirked one corner of his mouth. God certainly had ways of reminding him.
He'd suffered from the ordinary temptations, and the hot blood of youth had cooled in its time. He was no decadent, as was the Spanish Pope, to sire sons into his fifties in defiance of his vows.
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